


Phoenix Fire

by Oregano_Cactus



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Trans Male Character, can be read as tenyuki friendship or romance depending on your taste!, izumi tsuzuru taichi hisoka and sakuya are all background characters, juza's the second lead, little bit of a yuki meta fic as well, mixed troupe play, rated teen for light swearing!, yuki gets to have a cool and epic scene where he shows off in a cool costume, yuki struggles with the concept of masculinity/power, yuki's the lead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oregano_Cactus/pseuds/Oregano_Cactus
Summary: "“I don’t need your words. They mean nothing to me, Haruto, when I have proof that you have been betraying me for months. Months, and you seriously thought I wouldn’t catch you?”Yuki strides to the back of the stage, a smooth walk that suits him much better than the brash swagger ever did, and retrieves an imaginary prop.“Letters. Letters and letters and letters, Haruto, and they all show evidence of the same thing: a betrayal so profound that I do not wish to name it.”"Yuki stars in a mixed-troupe play as a powerful ex-"bad guy" and struggles with his perception of that power in the process of getting into his character. In the end, after some help from Tenma and the rest of his friends, he discovers that power is what he decides to make of it and embraces the concept in a way that truly only he can by being incredibly epic and cool on stage.
Relationships: Rurikawa Yuki & Hyoudou Juza, Rurikawa Yuki & Sumeragi Tenma, Rurikawa Yuki/Sumeragi Tenma
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	Phoenix Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for clicking on this fic! I hope you enjoy :D 
> 
> This is the most I've ever written, and it's all for my special lad......my boy Yuki..... 
> 
> Quick note: Yuki is a trans guy in this fanfiction! I couldn't figure out how to get the tags to work to indicate who the trans guy was specifically so I'll just specify here. 
> 
> Italics indicate speaking ! ^^
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, they truly brighten my day :D

_“We’re taking a break between the standard troupe plays and shaking things up with a mixed troupe play! Exciting, right?”_ Izumi’s eyes sparkle, and everyone stares at her in the living room. 

Tsuzuru already looks exhausted. 

_“What?”_ Yuki looks up from embroidery, Muku curled up on his shoulder reading a shoujo manga. His voice sharpens. _“What does that mean? Twice the costumes?”_

Izumi laughs and flaps her hand as she stirs the curry. _“No, no, calm down, it’s all good. When I say mixed troupe, I mean there will be a mix of people from each troupe that participate. It’ll still be the normal five in each play, don’t worry. And, Tsuzuru?”_ Tsuzuru stares at her from the couch, eyes already going crazy. _“I’m relying on you for that script, alright?”_

_“Y—yes, I’ll make it work. Who’s participating? I need that before I start writing, so I can cast people properly,”_ Tsuzuru says, and Izumi’s eyes dart around the room. 

_“Hm…”_ They all shrink from those (frankly terrifying) determined eyes on instinct, sinking as far as possible into the couch cushions. _“How about…We’ll have Yuki, Juza, Taichi, Hisoka, and Sakuya as our members! That’s one from each group, and it’ll be a fun dynamic.”_ Each member tenses in turn as their name is called, and Yuki thinks, briefly, that this is what participating in the Hunger Games must feel like. 

Tsuzuru groans and massages his temples. _“You just want me to suffer, don’t you. Sure, I’ll get this to you by the end of next week, Director,”_ he sighs, and then vanishes. Sakuya looks after his retreating form in worry, brightening up only at the prospects of a new play. 

— 

Over the next week, the members get to know each other better in the practice room, running etudes together. Tsuzuru sits in on the first day, observing their relationships and how everything runs to properly typecast, and it’s a little jarring having him this noticeable for Yuki, who’s never had a chance to really worry about how he conducts himself around his troupe. 

Sure, Summer is loud and brash and chaotic in all the weirdest ways, but it’s always, always comfortable and safe. 

Not that the other members he’s grouped with aren’t safe; Sakuya and Taichi practically ooze friendliness and happiness and Juza, while taciturn, is always kind to him and they go out for sweets frequently together. Hisoka is a bit more of an enigma, but he seems to be quite honestly completely marshmallow-driven, and is asleep half the time anyways, so it’s no real worry on that end. But in the end, as much trust as he feels for everyone else in the company, there’s really nothing that beats the familiarity of Summer, he thinks as he watches Tsuzuru out of the corner of his eye. 

Taichi, ever the mood-maker, is trying his best to get everyone to come together and do some activities that he’s read about online, and of course is failing and succeeding in equal measures. 

He’s got everyone in Autumn completely under his thumb, so Juza’s falling in no problem, and Sakuya’s falling in out of sheer kindness, so he and Hisoka are left staring at each other while his eyelids increasingly droop and Yuki increasingly loses his patience. _“Hey, wake up.”_

Hisoka blinks his eyelids again, like one of the cats Misumi talks to. _“What?”_

“ _Wake up, I think Taichi wants us for something.”_ Handily ignoring Taichi’s yell of _Yes I do!_ , Yuki flicks Hisoka lightly on the forehead. Stupid Taichi, always barking about something or other. 

Still, he indulges him and leads a drowsy Hisoka over to the circle he’s made in the middle of the practice room, where Juza and Sakuya are already twiddling their thumbs and Taichi’s smile turns so white it’s blinding. _“Yay! Thank you, Yuki!”_

_“Yes, yes. Congratulate me after we successfully complete whatever activity you want us to complete,”_ he quips, and neatly gathers his legs below him. _“So, what’s the plan?”_

Taichi smiles, again. _“We’re here to show Tsuzuru how we interact, right? Let’s do some good old fashioned truth-or-dare!”_ His smile somehow, impossibly, widens—as if to ask _Did I do well, is this good,_ and Yuki shudders. 

But before he gets a chance to speak, Hisoka cuts in from where he’s draped over Sakuya like a lazy cat: “ _No. Not unless there’s marshmallows.”_ Yuki apologized for all the things he’d thought about Hisoka, he changed his mind and he now believed the man was an angel. _“Too much work.”_

_“Ha…wouldn’t it be fun if we did something different for a change, Hisoka? Just for a minute? I don’t think it’d be too much work, and you could…”_ As Sakuya keeps trying to convince Hisoka to join in, Yuki notices a devilish little grin on Taichi’s face that almost never meant good things. 

_“Spit it out, puppy.”_

Taichi wipes the smile off his face hurriedly. _“Huh? Spit out what?”_

Yuki rolls his eyes. He’s not oblivious, and Taichi wore his emotions on his proverbial sleeve when he wanted to—it was an insult to both of them to pretend like there wasn’t anything going on. _“You’ve got something you’re hiding, don’t you? Why don’t you share it with the class,”_ he says, and Taichi cracks with a bout of laughter. 

_“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, Sakuya, we’re all good and don’t actually have to try to get Hisoka to play truth or dare. I just thought it’d make people more receptive to my second idea, which is…! Drumroll…”_ The silence rings almost as sharp in the room as drumbeats would, and Taichi sinks a little bit. _“Uh, well! It’s just doing group etudes which…sounds…a little stupid now…”_

The silence, he thinks, is deafening. _“...What do you guys think?”_ Taichi says meekly, and Juza speaks up for the first time the entire practice. 

_“C’mon, assert yourself.”_ Taichi tips his head, confused, and Juza responds, _“Just say we’re going to do a group etude and then make ‘em do it. You don’t hafta wait.”_

And, just like that, Taichi’s face brightens again and his smile returns. _“Y—Yeah! Alright, I think Tasuku lent me these scripts a while back that we can use to practice, and—”_ His voice continues, handing out copies and pointing people places and Yuki thinks, just for a second, that Taichi might make a good leader someday. 

Then Taichi trips over his shoelaces and lands so hard _Yuki_ feels the impact, and he instantly banishes his previous thought from his mind. Well, perhaps someday, he thinks. 

— 

They continue with the group etudes courtesy of Tasuku for the rest of the week, figuring out what combos work and don’t work quite as well. 

For instance, they discover that—Big surprise!—Sakuya and Taichi are flexible enough to make almost enough any role work, which was about to be expected from each respective troupe’s moodmakers. 

They also discover that putting Juza and Hisoka together makes for a very emotionally gesticulate but not particularly articulate combi, which makes for a fun two minutes where they all have to watch what essentially feels like charades. 

As for Yuki himself, he finds he works well with people in the following order: Taichi, Juza, Sakuya, and Hisoka. 

It’s about to be expected, honestly. He’s most familiar with Taichi thanks to long hours spent on the sewing machine together, and he doesn’t think anyone could really not get along with Sakuya. 

Still, it’s surprising that Juza’s ranked higher than Sakuya. Yuki didn’t really expect it either, but they do spend a lot of time together out, and they’d discovered in a particularly emotionally charged scene that the contrast of their sizes and vocals worked perfectly to convey a whole lot of emotions incredibly rapidly. 

Tsuzuru’s eyes had flashed, taking note of how every movement they made seemed amplified by their contrast, and Yuki had seen him tear out a paper to shove into his pocket. 

And Hisoka, as always, was sleepy. Without Homare around to keep him awake, it was really difficult to pull him together enough to get what Yuki wanted—although the few times when they did get it were incredibly exciting to pull off correctly. 

Still, being used to the nonstop energy of Summer troupe, Hisoka was an incredibly drastic change, and Yuki recognized that he just didn’t mesh with Hisoka quite well enough yet. 

The week continues. 

Tsuzuru scribbles down notes, disappears for hours at a time, and Sakuya starts quietly bringing healthy snacks and drinks to rehearsal to slip him whenever possible. 

Yuki worries a little too, but Tsuzuru’s a young college student. Those kinds of people are made of something different than normal people, everyone knew that. Yuki was pretty sure that instead of blood, Tsuzuru’s veins circulated Redbull. 

Just when it hits the point of no return and Yuki considers just directly inputting the number for emergency services on speed dial, Tsuzuru stumbles into the practice rooms essentially dead on his feet, clutching a sheaf of paper. _“Take…It…”_

Sakuya rushes towards Tsuzuru, catching him in his arms and lowering him into one of the benches. _“Tsuzuru! Don’t strain yourself, how many times have we said that…”_

Tsuzuru quickly shakes him off, offering up a copy to everyone. _“The new play…”_

Izumi puts a hand over her mouth in shock but accepts the script regardless, flipping through the pages. _“Tsuzuru, when I say a week I don’t mean a literal week! Please, dear god, take some time off.”_ The disappointed tone carries across the room, only pausing as she gets further into the script. _“Oh, interesting plot point here! What’s your casting plans?”_

At those words, Tsuzuru visibly reinvigorates, propping himself up on the wall. _“This play’s called Vengeance. It’s about a pair of childhood friends who go into business together, and have a really solid life together with a really deep friendship until one of them discovers that the other person used to be doing really unsavory things. Then the whole business and relationship falls apart because one partner doesn’t trust the other, the old bad guy gets angry that his partner would betray him, displays his true power that he’s been holding back, and the play ends in a vicious tangle of emotions and nastiness. It’s a little darker than normal for some of these members, but I think you guys can handle it.”_

Juza makes a noise, clicking his tongue in what seems to be…frustration? _“I’m the ex-bad guy again, aren’t I.”_

Tsuzuru brightens up again, smiling. _“No, actually, you aren’t. The main characters in this play are Shou, the ex-bad guy; Haruto, the suspicious business partner; Sam, the remnant of a painful past; Akira, the cop trying to catch Shou; and Reiji, the unsuspecting tip-off.”_ They all glance around the room, trying to figure out who each character is. Yuki, after a short moment of deliberation, decides he’ll probably be playing either Sam or Haruto—He’s well aware he’s not intimidating enough on stage for Shou, and he’s not innocent enough for Reiji, which really just leaves two characters. 

It comes as a bit of a shock, then, when Tsuzuru says, _“So, Juza, you’re going to be Haruto. Hisoka, you’re Akira, Sakuya, you’re Reiji, Taichi, you’re Sam, and Yuki, you’re our lead for this play—the man of the hour, Shou.”_

Shou? Yuki’s not tall or threatening enough to be Shou, definitely not hyper-masculine enough to be able to keep up that aura on stage for several hours. 

He says as much, stating, “ _Tsuzuru, while I appreciate the lead role, I can’t play someone as intimidating as Shou for hours on stage. Have literally anyone else do it. Besides maybe Sakuya.”_

Tsuzuru just smiles wearily before saying, _“Good luck,”_ and passes out on the bench, leaving Sakuya to cry out again for the fifth time in two days. 

Shou? How was he supposed to play Shou? 

— 

He thinks about it later in his room, doing tiny, tiny stitches on his embroidery hoop. His eyes are burning but he doesn’t really want to go to sleep, so he keeps embroidering a little bear that he promised to give Muku and thinks about how he’s going to pull off someone that, in Tsuzuru’s words, was someone who would display the power he’d been holding back. 

The needle punches through another bit of cloth, and he feels something soft travel past his head in the next instant, followed up by an annoying groan. _“Yuki, it’s like 2 AM, please go the fuck to bed already,”_ Tenma complains, and his voice is thick with sleep. 

_“Shut up and stop throwing pillows at me, I’m working on a project,”_ Yuki fires back, and neglects to mention how Muku had explicitly (too explicitly) said that as long as he had it within the next century, he’d be happy. 

_“Okay, well, work on that project later, because I can sure as hell see from here that you’re working on Muku’s little bear and I also know for a fact that he’d never give you a deadline. Just fucking go to sleep so I can stop jolting awake every two seconds when your needle punches through that cloth,”_ Tenma says, and Yuki wonders when he’d become observant enough to tell what project he was working on at that moment. 

Yuki gives in the end after a few more stitches, rubbing his eyes as he climbs up the ladder to his bed, and just before he passes out he hears Tenma sigh out, _“Eyedrops are on the side table next to the fifth bonsai.”_

Goddamn that Tenma, stupidly observant at the worst times as always. 

— 

Yuki does make ready use of those eyedrops the next day, when he wakes up with eyes pinker than Muku’s hair, and he grumbles the entire time he puts them in. 

It does help, though, and he vows to take a picture of the bottle later so he can get some himself. After all, a seamster’s most important tools are his eyes and hands, so he might as well take care of them while he can. 

As he arrives in the practice room, he sees the members of the play in various states of disarray and realizes that he actually has to be the leader this time. 

_“Guys, c’mon, let’s get started,”_ he says, and claps his hands. 

Taichi pops up like a jack-in-the-box, and cries, _“Yuki! You’re so cool when you’re the leader, you know?”_ and Yuki shoves him aside gently to pick up a copy of the script. 

_“Enough of just sitting here, let’s get started with a runthrough and then we’ll go from there,”_ he says, and starts reading once everyone’s ready. 

_“Haruto, hey. Isn’t it a relief that we’re finally able to run this business?”_

Juza startles at Yuki’s voice, pitched raspier than normal to accomodate for the character, then clears his own throat. _“It’s been our dream since childhood, I should think so. I’m excited to start up business all proper, so we can finally do what we want…”_

_“Before that, though, we should…”_

— 

First runthrough is, as always, kind of a disaster, but it’s obvious their improvement from their first shows. 

Yuki misses his first show as lead now, with the ever-bubbly and talkative Kazunari, but it’s surprisingly easy to lean into his role as the solid and dependable Shou. Juza’s having trouble with some of the articulation, Hisoka’s not really doing any of the flashy moves Akira should be doing, Taichi’s getting nervous and not giving off the proper aura, and Sakuya’s actually…really good but just needs a little depth to his character, and he notes them all down in his head as he moves through scenes. 

They hit the climax, and that’s when Yuki runs into problems of his own. 

_“You betrayed me, you know. And I trusted you so much. You’ll pay—”_ He breaks off with a cough, voice strained. _“You’ll pay—”_

Juza looks up from his own script, face worried. _“Hey, let’s take a break. No use acting with a harsh throat.”_

Yuki sighs and considers for a second just continuing, but sees the faces of everyone around him and grabs his water bottle. _“Sure.”_

Face unfolding in relief, they all take a sip, and the script continues. 

— 

Yuki doesn’t understand why he can’t feel what he’s supposed to at the proper moments, and it’s frustrating him beyond belief. 

_The climax should be Shou’s moment to shine, where his danger that he’s kept masked isn’t held in check anymore and he shows the sheer enormity of his force,_ Tsuzuru had said, and Yuki has been practicing over and over for hours in his room trying to nail that perfect intonation to no avail. 

_“You betrayed—”_ No, that wasn’t right, too high-pitched and pithy. 

_“You betrayed—”_ No, not that either, too petty. 

_“You betrayed—”_ No, that wasn’t it, he— 

_“Oh my god, this is two nights in a fucking row now, do I need to call dorm police on you?”_ Tenma bursts out in frustration, and Yuki sticks out his tongue back. 

_“Who’s dorm police? Anyways, I don’t care. You’ve kept me up plenty of times with your stupid acting rehearsals too, I’m just returning the favor,”_ Yuki says, and tries to resume. 

_“Sakyo, who else?”_ Yuki huffs out a laugh for that, schooling his face strict once more afterwards. _“Also, you’re not going to get anywhere just trying to drill an intonation into your head, I can tell you that much.”_

_“Well then, what do you propose I do?”_ He’s tired and pissed off, and he knows he sounds meaner than normal but he can’t quite bring himself to care. 

_“Shou’s brash and bold at the same time that he’s somewhat reserved and practical, right? You’ve got to show that power, instead of just trying to drive the plot forward with just your lines. Tsuzuru wrote a similar character for me, once, and the key to that one was speaking in a certain measured way that showed how powerful he was and moving solidly,”_ Tenma offers from his spot on the bed. 

_“How the hell do I move solidly when I weigh about half of Juza, then?”_ Yuki questions, and hears Tenma groan again. 

_“It’s about the impression, not the actual—look, let me show you.”_ Tenma scrambles down from the bed, jumping lightly to the ground. _“Watch.”_ And just like that, Tenma really does walk heavier, deepening his stride and adding even more of a swagger and doing all sorts of little things that Yuki catalogues to pick apart later, because as much as he hates to admit it in front of Tenma, Tenma really is a great actor. _“See what I’m doing with my hips and stride? I’m straightening my back so I stand taller, too, and I’m glaring like you do to give off that aura.”_

Yuki tries the same, and manages limited success, glaring at Tenma the entire time. Tenma’s laughing a little, he thinks, and he makes his displeasure well-known. _“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just—Well, it’s admittedly a little bit of a gap to see someone like you walking like a Yakuza boss would,”_ Tenma admits, and Yuki throws a towel at him. _“Hey, what the hell!”_

“ _Boys who say mean things get fucked, Tenma,”_ Yuki says, and sits primly back down on his chair. 

_“Fuck you too, I guess,”_ Tenma mutters, climbing up the stairs again, and doesn’t notice later when Yuki throws the covers that he kicked aside during the night back over him. 

It’s late, anyways, and he can blame his moment of sentimentality on the fact that Tenma’s coaching had helped him feel more confident about Shou. 

As expected of his leader. 

— 

Time rushes on, opening night grows ever near, and Yuki still can’t properly figure out his character. 

It’s strangely hurtful, being this stuck with his role, and he hasn’t let it affect his costume-making but looking at his costume makes him feel more and more like this isn’t him, like it isn’t going to be Yuki Rurikawa taking the stage as Shou. 

But he still does his best to match the costumes to the ever-evolving characters that the others are pulling off, and it’s honestly really shocking how much improvement they make in such a short time. 

Juza transforms his character from a slick-talking businessman into a man who reveals his intelligence at the best times possible, a shrewd worker who’s not afraid to use his size to his advantage and fool others. Yuki’s heard him getting help from Banri on how to enunciate certain words clearer, sometimes, and he feels a leader’s pride as Juza clears his lines so well that Yuki almost feels like he’s been scammed by Haruto in that very moment. 

He’s known from the beginning that Hisoka was competent, but seeing him go from a sleepy cat to the ideal portrait of an incredibly active and well-trained cop with the reflexes to match is terrifying. Everyone’s a little terrified after Hisoka’s runthrough of his fight scene, except for a passing Chikage who just cackles and runs away when Hisoka glares at him. 

Sakuya remains stellar, bringing out the innocence but also the slight touch of a man who knows he’s making some mistake but isn’t sure what, and he receives many compliments from both Yuki and the rest of the group. 

He isn’t sure what happens to Taichi, to be honest, but at some point he spots him talking with Autumn and Juza, and the next day—Well, it’s like the difference between night and day. He’s dark in all the right ways, fiercely ambitious and incredibly hurt all in one, and Yuki’s honestly truly shocked by how well Taichi can pull it off. Every fierce grin he flashes, every moment where Taichi’s spinning a (prop) knife on his fingers and preaching about how weak the world is and how he’s willing to take it all over—it’s terrifyingly impressive, and he thinks that Tsuzuru’s going to be making a huge mistake if he doesn’t cast Taichi in this sort of role again for his next play. 

In the end, it’s just him that’s the problem. 

Yuki reads his lines well enough, and he’s got most of the details down, except—He can’t figure out how to make Shou go from a kind and enthusiastic businessman with a future lined up to a fierce and powerful man, ready to use all the means at his disposal to get revenge, and he knows it’s all because of his stature. 

It frustrates him to the highest degree, truly. 

Yuki knows he’s short and that he’s relatively small next to Juza (and honestly, next to a lot of people in the company), but he’d hoped—he’d perhaps foolishly hoped that if he had a tongue sharp enough and a glare intimidating enough, he’d be able to be manly enough and intimidating enough for this role. 

And it’s too late to ask Juza to switch, to allow Yuki to fall into that familiar role of a sarcastic quipper, and it’d be unfair to ask Juza to give up that role when he’d already been practicing so hard for it. 

He’s the only weak link left in the chain. 

— 

It’s 3 AM again, and he can’t sleep. The light’s clicked on, the lowest setting, and Yuki stares into its hypnotic light as he thinks and thinks and overthinks yet again. 

He could ask Juza for lessons on how to be masculine and intimidating, but he’d already burned that path long ago. He shouldn’t be relying on someone who was busy with his own role to try to help him sort out issues that he should’ve dealt with a long, long, time ago, when he first came out, when he still had a chance to learn how to be “manly”, when he— 

Yuki presses his hands into his eyelids, watching fireworks explode. 

It’s his fault that he’s not able to be Shou properly. 

He knows he chose to wear these clothes, and that he knew when he first chose to wear them that he’d deal with a lot more cases of mistaken gender than if he’d chosen “traditional” clothing for boys. 

He’d shrugged it off at the time, had told himself and everyone else that had asked that he just liked wearing cute clothes and didn’t see why that had to end just because he had come out as a boy, and he thought—

Well, it was still true, he thinks with a vindictive tint. He wore his clothes because they were cute and he liked them. 

But the doubt always lingered, if he wasn’t a “real boy” because of how he liked to dress, and now that he’s trying to design the perfect outfit for Shou at the same time as figuring out how to be that masculine, powerful figure that Tsuzuru had talked about, all he could think about is why he hadn’t chosen to give up all his skirts and dresses and pink berets in favor of something closer to what Juza wore. 

Yuki crumples another piece of paper, another design for Shou’s outfit discarded. 

He feels a pair of eyes on him, watching from above, but pointedly ignores them, and Tenma does not say a word. 

His eyes burn. He needs to buy new eyedrops, instead of just using Tenma’s all the time. 

Another piece of paper goes into the trash can. 

— 

The date of opening night draws closer yet again, and Yuki wants to tear his hair out. 

Everything is near-perfect, the costumes look stellar on everyone else, and the set’s finally coming together. 

It’s all perfect, except for him. 

He’s finally made a shitty semblance at a costume for Shou, a bold three-piece suit that has really easily reversible sides for costume changes, and it’s not a _bad_ costume but it—it doesn’t fit, doesn’t work right for him or Shou, and he feels like a child playing dress-up again. 

His temporary troupe notices his frustration, tries to alleviate it however they can, and he appreciates it greatly but— 

Nothing helps, and he’s left lost and just a little out of place after every runthrough. 

The final climax scene isn’t working, everyone’s eyes say, but nobody’s been bold enough or bothered enough to say it to his face yet. It works, to a sense; the gap between Yuki and Juza is large enough that it’s at least comical if nothing else, and they’re both good enough actors by now to get it working to some degree, but it’s just— 

Not perfect. 

Every other night he near-cries in frustration, just trying to get the lines right, and Tenma’s invested in earplugs (and extra eyedrops, he’s noticed) to sleep through Yuki’s frantic muttering. 

He hears, every so often, Tenma yelling, _“You’re too focused on being manly! Just be annoying like usual, and it’s scary enough,”_ and he rebuts back with something about Tenma’s annoying habit of leaving his towels on the floor if he’s feeling kind, or something about Tenma’s annoying fear of mostly everything if he’s not. 

(He wakes up, every now and then, with a blanket draped on him and doesn’t say anything about it. 

After all, it’d embarrass both of them.) 

In the meantime, to try to fix his stress, Yuki creates the costume he’d design for himself if he didn’t have a character to fit. 

Deep red instead of black, with silk fabric and powerful accents and a skirt that looked like a hybrid between a ball gown and extremely elaborate coattails, and a fitting that creates the illusion of mystery—looking at it, one wouldn’t know whether the wearer was male or female, and the sequins he sews on and the artistically arranged fabric create the appearance of an ever-shifting cacophony of clothing. 

He tries it on, just a couple times. Slips it on then looks at himself in the full-length mirror. 

Yuki’s shocked by how well it fits him, by how much it accentuates his eyes and his body and lends power to his smaller frame. He asks Azami to do his makeup at some point, tries the costume on, and he doesn’t recognize himself for a second—he’s all grace and assassination-style beauty, eyes set high and gaze fiery and smoldering in turns. (Evidently, Tenma doesn’t recognize him either—he screams incredibly loudly when he enters their room and discovers what he believes is some creature standing in front of Yuki’s mirror.) 

It’s of course beautiful, and Yuki sets its design aside for another play that can make better use of it—maybe a big-city style play?—before buckling down once more to try to create a better Shou costume, to no avail. 

— 

It’s opening night and Azami’s doing his makeup, steady strokes of his hand that leave no room for complaint as Yuki stares at the disappointment of a suit he’s got hanging on the rack. 

He’d tried so hard, spent night after sleepless night working on the costume and his character, and still— 

He still couldn’t get it right. 

He was so exhausted he was ready to drop, which was never a good way to feel before a play, but he hadn’t seen any other option last night when he was still struggling with how to play his character and the costume at the same time. (He thought again, longingly, of the red costume.) 

Juza taps him on the shoulder as he finishes changing, handing him a water bottle. _“Leader, ready to go?”_

Yuki smiles up at him, strained but trying to show a good front. _“I’ll be over in a second.”_

He fusses with his suit one last time, straightening out the lapels, and then heads over to the rest of the group. _“Alright, cast of Vengeance, let’s make our first show a good one. Show them our betrayal, show them our power, and let’s let our name ring out!”_

Yuki’s voice isn’t fully in it, and he’s sure his group can tell, but they cheer just as loud nonetheless and he appreciates them for it. 

Members that aren’t participating show up, Muku and Misumi and Kumon and Kazunari and all the autumn troupe members, and Yuki subtly cranes his neck to see if Tenma’s there to no avail. 

Kazunari notices, says, _“Aw, Yukki, he’s grabbing something from his room! He says he’ll try to make it if he has enough time, but he’s going to be in the audience for sure!”_

To that, Yuki vehemently denies any evidence of him ever looking for Tenma at all, and ignores the flush rising on his cheeks. 

_“Act well for us, Yukki!”_

_“Good luck, Yuki!’_

_“Knock ‘em dead!”_

_“Don’t let anyone else beat you, ‘kay?”_

_“Good luck!”_

Well wishes echo around the wings, quietly, and the guests leave quickly as _Vengeance_ prepares to take the stage. 

_“Welcome to our mixed troupe play, made up of a mixture of all troupes and styles! Today, we’ll be taking you on a trip to a world known as Vengeance, a bitter tale of betrayal and hurt…”_

— 

Yuki tears his way through the first half of the play, tries to exemplify the swaggering and solid man that Shou is, and tries to use all the tricks that Tenma’s tried to teach him. _“C’mon, Haruto, this is a bit rash. They just want a bit of extra along with what they already bought, and they have a child…”_

Juza’s so perfect as Haruto, bringing out that perfect shrewdness. Yuki sees Banri in the crowd, and is hit with the similarities—he guesses the coaching had some effect, after all. _“Don’t ‘C’mon’ me, Shou, we can’t lose money or the business won’t even stay afloat!”_

They’re all perfect, Yuki thinks as he spins through the first act, striding and gesticulating and always, always trying to make himself bigger. 

Taichi’s perfect in the background, dark and vicious in all the perfect ways. 

Hisoka’s perfect as the agile cop Akira, eyes lighting up with recognition as Shou’s name travels. 

Sakuya’s perfect touch of innocence and slight ignored guilt is obvious in every line he says. 

He hates it. 

He hates the stares he knows he’s getting as Juza defers to him over and over again, he hates how he sees an audience member or two snicker as he tries to walk bigger and deepen his strides, and most of all he hates his troupe for coming to watch him ruin this perfect character that Tsuzuru had written. 

He struggles his way through scene after scene, going through a spat with Haruto and seeing Sam lurking in the background, and he knows the fear on his face when he sees Sam looks as real as he can get it but he can still hear some audience members whisper as he tries to storm off angrily. 

Yuki’s off for the next three scenes, and so he perches down on a box backstage, furious with himself and furious with the play and furious with the world. 

He gets up from the box, paces back and forth. 

It’s the opening night, never the most polished, but he’s never been this unhappy with himself before in a play and his mood is worsened by the infernal suit pinching in odd spots. It’s his own work, he knows, but he hates every inch of the pinstripe and he paces even harder as the emotions start to set in. 

Yuki gets the call that he’s in the next scene, and begins to get up when— 

He hears the sound of tearing fabric, and when he looks down a huge stripe of his suit is torn off. 

There’d been a nail on the box he had been pacing past, and he’d caught the costume on the nail. 

Of all things to happen at this point, of course this happened, he thinks with wild panic, then clenches his fist with determination. 

He is part of Summer troupe, and they are the troupe of improvisation. He would not give in. 

Picking the strip of fabric up in his hand, Yuki strides back out, interrupting Haruto’s conversation with a neighborhood woman. 

_“Look at what you did, Haruto. You’ve ruined my suit.”_

Juza picks up on it right away, clearing his throat and ignoring the woman. _“Nothing of the sort. I’m busy, Shou, come bother me later.”_

They argue back and forth for a couple more lines, until Yuki feels that they’ve solved the issue enough, and they continue again for 3 scenes before it’s just before Sam’s monologue to Akira and the first stones of Shou’s anger start to drop. 

_“You’re being unreasonable, Haruto, and we both know it. Tell me what’s wrong,”_ Yuki intones, and Juza responds perfectly. 

_“I’m just saying, there’s some rumors going on around you, that’s it,”_ Juza sneers. 

Then, Yuki tries too hard to match Juza’s height and stature and leans in too far, nearly tripping. 

He rights himself quickly, of course, but his ears are burning and he barely manages to get out his next line before hearing someone yell in the crowd. 

It’s his turn to face the crowd anyways, so he spins around to check, and he sees someone he really didn’t expect: Tenma Sumeragi, sitting in the front row. 

Tenma, eyes shining now that he has Yuki’s attention on him, screams again: _“Just be annoying!”_ and sits back down, ignoring the glares from the audience. 

It freezes him in his tracks. 

Shou was strong, and imposing, and fierce, and powerful; he was not “annoying”. 

Tenma was being stupid. He was being an idiot, like he always was, and he’d come solely to annoy Yuki by yelling one of his usual digs at him. 

But it didn’t read ill-intentioned, not really, so what was Tenma’s angle? 

While he’s pondering, the scene changes, and Yuki leaves stage again, head spinning, and he thinks for a second sitting on the stupid crate. 

He rotates back out for a chase scene with Akira and spends most of it in a blind daze, only dodging and swiping and fighting with Hisoka’s practiced moves out of habit, accidentally injecting just a tad more of his usual grace into the performance than he would if he were fully checked in. 

“ _Just be annoying,”_ Tenma had said, and Yuki couldn’t put it out of his mind. 

He moves to the dressing room after the chase scene is over to redo small bits of his makeup, and notices the tear again, fingers stroking the rough fabric. This definitely isn’t something he could keep up for tomorrow, unless he stitches it this way purposefully, but that’d require even more work on the costume, and it’d require—

His frustrations overflow, and Yuki buries his head in his hands. 

He hated how he’d done. 

He had parts he liked, of course, and he was appreciative of how amazing his cast members were, but he hadn’t ever belonged in a role like Shou, someone with that much power, and it showed. 

The audience could see it. 

They could see how he wasn’t able to take the stage presence Juza had, could see how none of it was working, could see the disgusting suit and what he’d done to it. 

He takes the suit jacket off, just for a second, and moves to place it on the costume rack so it doesn’t get ruined, when he notices something incredibly familiar. 

Somehow, his other costume had ended up in the dressing room, bagged and labeled with a post-it: _For Yuki_. 

He reaches out, with trembling fingers, and turns the note over to reveal a second message: _You’re good at being annoying, aren’t you? That’s scary, too. Stop being weird and just be your annoying self already!!!_

He’s laughing before he knows why, the laughter that only Summer troupe draws from him, and in the next second he realizes: _Power is not what I think it is_. 

In that instant, Yuki understands what Tenma’s been trying to tell him all these sleepless nights, what his temporary troupe has been trying to reassure him of: Power isn’t the ability to physically intimidate or to threaten with bold masculinity. It isn’t the swagger he’d been thinking of, or the wider strides, or the suit that made his lithe figure look bigger than it was. 

Power was the ability to own who you were as fully as you could, and once you felt you couldn’t become yourself any further, then you’d stretch just that little bit further and embrace it just a little bit tighter. 

Yuki laughs again, out of sheer relief, and crushes the post-it note in his hands in a surge of determination. 

He gets notified that he’s on in five, for the climax scene, and Yuki does nothing but smile and reassure them he’ll be out shortly. 

Finally, _finally_ , he discards the suit and the stuffy airs and puts on the costume meant for him. 

The red fits perfectly with his armband, and as Azami rushes into the room, with the eyeshadow as well. 

Azami replicates the look he’d done for Yuki so long ago perfectly, understanding in a moment what needed to happen, and Yuki sits in his stunning costume perfectly fit for him and laughs. 

He is powerful, and he will crush Haruto beneath his shoes like he is nothing. 

Before Azami applies the final touches, though, Yuki asks him to stop with a touch on his wrist and asks for a bit of the old style of makeup. 

Azami does as requested, dusting a bit of the harsh powder onto his cheekbones and setting them high, invoking a bit of the Shou before his break, and Yuki smiles just to see himself smiling in the mirror. 

_“Yuki, we ready to go?”_

“ _Ready,”_ Yuki asserts, and he steps out into the stage with fabric swishing and eyes deadly, deadly red. 

— 

Yuki walks out onto that stage, and he becomes Shou with nothing remaining by the time he hits his fourth step. 

He is all deadly grace and precision, clothing perfectly tailored to match him, no longer drowning in excess, and he will destroy Haruto with nothing but a look. 

Juza flinches at the Yuki that walks out on stage, such a stark difference from before, and his eyes grow wide as Yuki tilts his chin up. 

_“Haruto, do you know who I am?”_ Improv is Summer’s skill, and he will claim every inch of it as his. 

Juza, bless him, plays along perfectly. _“Shou…? That…That can’t be…You’re…”_

Yuki stalks around him, playing with him. _“I am he. Why, were you expecting your mild-mannered partner back? Want him to come crawling back, with nothing but apologies and cloying words?”_

“ _I didn’t do anything, whatever you think.”_ Juza’s bringing out how stubborn Haruto is, playing off of Yuki’s smooth words. 

_“I don’t need your words. They mean nothing to me, Haruto, when I have proof that you have been betraying me for months. Months, and you seriously thought I wouldn’t catch you?”_ Yuki strides to the back of the stage, a smooth walk that suits him much better than the brash swagger ever did, and retrieves an imaginary prop. _“Letters. Letters and letters and letters, Haruto, and they all show evidence of the same thing: a betrayal so profound that I do not wish to name it.”_

Juza opens his mouth to speak and he feels cruel, cutting Juza off as soon as he’s about to talk, but he’s the one in charge—Juza is not. _“No, I think I’ll name it after all. I’ll give you an itemized list, like you so liked to demand from our vulnerable customers. First. You repeatedly embezzled funds from our store to use for your own personal gain, including pleasure items such as clothes from the most expensive clothing store in town. Second. You spread the word about what I used to be, twisted my life and made me out as a monster to local stores so I could not purchase anything. Third—”_

Juza repays the favor, cutting him off. _“I—So what, I made a mistake. Big deal. I should’ve listened to you, Shou, and I’ll apologize if that’s what you want,”_ he says placatingly, and Yuki laughs the cruel, high laugh that he’s directed at Tenma in a much more joking manner a billion times. 

_“Oh, if that’s what I want? A mistake? Haruto, you amuse me so,”_ he sighs, and then in the next instant grabs Juza’s arm and sweeps around to kick him in the back of the leg, a smooth movement that has Juza falling to the stage on his knees in an instant. Yuki’s confident that Juza can react fast enough, that he can handle it, or he wouldn’t have done that move without asking, but he still briefly apologizes with his eyes before moving on and Juza gives an imperceptible nod. 

_“I think scum like you belong on the floor, don’t you think?”_ Yuki’s having the time of his life, spitting out poison-covered words and improv like it’s as easy as breathing, and Juza is left helpless on the stage before him. 

He glances out at the crowd just once, and catches a glimpse of Tenma, looking as pleased and proud as he possibly can. 

It drives him forward. 

_“You don’t get the right to call yourself my partner anymore, Haruto. You lost that privilege a long, long time ago.”_ Yuki sweeps around the stage, red fabric flaring out in a brilliant inferno of rage and potent, potent hatred. _“Look around you, and memorize it. It’s the last look of me you’ll ever have, the last look of what you could’ve had.”_

Juza’s eyes flash, and he tries to get up, but— 

Yuki pins him down with a look, easy as breathing. _“You think I’m proving your point, that I was evil? Do you?”_

Juza says nothing, eyes staring defiantly. 

_“Haruto, dear Haruto, you were always more wrong than you were right.”_ Yuki moves in, sighs and pats Juza’s head condescendingly, then stands up to his full height. _“I cared about this store. I would’ve been content to continue forever like this, running my dream store with my best friend. Why do you think I ignored the signs for months, hm? I cared so much I wanted to live in a lie.”_

He lowers his voice to a whisper as he moves away, seemingly remorseful, and Juza takes the opportunity to blurt out, “ _Well then, just say you forgive me and it can all return to—”_

Yuki freezes in his tracks, and it’s a more effective way to still the stage than anything else is. 

The lights stop moving, the audience noises fade away, and he sees every angle of the stage laid out in front of him, his for the taking. 

Then, slowly, slowly, he starts to stride towards Juza again. 

With every step, he feels the fabric stream behind him, leaving trails of burning fire as he walks, feeling the emotion of _Shou_ fill him until he’s sure he can’t fit any more, then adding more. 

This is no longer a narrative of a man displaying the power he has held back, he thinks. It is the story of a man who has lost everything and been reborn from the ashes with all the glory of a phoenix. 

He stops in front of Juza knelt on the floor, eyes burning with an unrecognizable flame, makeup high and striking on his cheeks, and full of the confidence that only comes with truly knowing oneself. 

_“Haruto,”_ Yuki whispers, fixing him with a piercing gaze. The tension is palpable in the air, and if he knows if he looks to the side he’ll see his troupe on the edge of their seats. _“You have lost. Now, bow your head to your crown of thorns and face my vengeance.”_

The moment hangs in the air, lingering, as Yuki nails him to the floor with his eyes alone.

It remains as Juza slowly, slowly, ever so slowly lowers his gaze to the ground, a final concession to the overwhelming power before him. 

In the next moment, the curtain falls, and Yuki nearly collapses to the floor, a pile of red fabric and black makeup and nothing left of him but _exhaustion_. 

If he listens closely right now, he thinks, he can make out the voices of his troupe cheering him on. 

— 

After Yuki gets a bottle of water and recovers, he heads backstage to roaring applause. 

Words fly around him, words of praise and congratulation and all of them, nearly all of them congratulating him on the unique twist at the end, and he barely focuses on all of them but one: Tenma is standing at the costume rack, grin wider than it’s ever been, and he’s shouting, _“I knew you’d get it! Fucking knew it!”_

Yuki winds his way over to him, exhausted steps dragging, and as he reaches Tenma he hears him say, _“You were fucking amazing out there, I was hoping you’d get what I was trying to say with my message, the final monologue was perfectly improvised,”_ blathering on and on, and Yuki very effectively shuts him up by collapsing on top of him. 

_“I—uh—”_ Tenma stutters, face flushed, and Yuki just groans. 

_“I’m only saying this once, so listen up, alright?”_ He throws a hand over his eyes. 

_“I couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Thank you.”_

He feels Tenma stiffen against him, and hears the half-confused, half-indignant reply of _“What—You can’t just—You can’t just say that! Asshole!”_ , and tunes him completely out as he falls asleep. _“Hey! Yuki! What the hell, wake up so we can fucking discuss this!”_

Yuki catches his breath, just before drifting off to sleep—just enough to say, _“Ha. Gotcha, Tenma,”_ and then pass out into blissful darkness. 

And if he and Tenma both happen to catch a private little smile on his lips, well, that’s a secret kept just between the two of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my fic! Some extras about this fic as a reward for making it to the end:   
> \- Banri is not at all focused on what's happening in the actual play. He just thinks Juza kneeling on the floor in a cool costume is sexy and he's zeroing in on that.   
> \- After the play, Izumi is like (wipes a tear from her eye) TENMA IF YOU STAND UP IN THE FRONT ROW OF A PLAY EVER AGAIN I WILL BEAT YOU UP   
> \- Yuki chugs about three bottles of gatorade once he gets back to the dorms. Boy's dehydrated.   
> \- The fabric that Yuki uses is leftover from another play, Sakyo would never let him spend money on that much epic cloth. 
> 
> Thank you so much again for reading my fic, I truly do appreciate every single person who even looks at it! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, please take the time to leave kudos or comments. They're what keep me continuing to write, and I appreciate each and every single one of them so so much! I reread the comments you guys leave over and over again because I love them that much, I promise :D (And here's my shameless begging: please leave comments so I can scream loudly and lose it over them ;3)


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